the sun also rises
by xfucktheglasses
Summary: SBNY!Verse. Of Suigetsu and the art of living. —Suigetsu.


SBNY!Sui just breaks my heart, okay?! Also, if I had written this, the day my brain decided to torture my poor Sui, it would have been the nastiest, heaviest, horriblest angst ever. But I didn't have time to write until today; you're all lucky.

To Sonya and Sara. You know why.

**the sun also rises**

There is no noise.

The hospital is a ghost town, all white walls, white tiled floors and wooden chairs with stiff soft pink cushions. Levels upon levels upon levels of death walking among the living, cherry-picking who he wants to take with him this time. Clouds of gloom and despair and even the rare grins of being saved at the last minute—sighs of relief and gasps of forced acceptance.

Suigetsu stands at the far end of the waiting room on the seventh floor.

He's thin and scruffy, fourteen and dangling at the edge of a building, pitch black threatening to swallow him up and never spit him out. He has his head lowered, messy silver-white hair falling over his face, hiding the dead look in his eyes, the vibrant red of his lips against his pale skin as he continues to gnaw at the tender flesh with anxiety and pent up anger he keeps trying to subdue.

But subduing the anger means submitting to the pain—to the sorrow that clawed at his chest, leaving him gasping for air; breathless and covered in sweat, like waking up from a nightmare.

Suigetsu hasn't moved; his legs feel like ants keep crawling up and down, tickling and numbing his limbs but he doesn't care.

He's nervous.

He's worried.

He's…

He looks up, from under his lashes, hair still shadowing the top half of his face. Kushina and Mikoto are talking to one another, trying to come off as calm but hands shaking in their laps. And his stupid friends litter the small room; Naruto is half asleep, Neji is stiff and proper and Sasuke and Kiba are arguing under their breaths about something.

Life is still going on but Suigetsu feels at a stand-still—a face off, one wrong move and everything is lost.

His mother woke up weaker than normal and it was all Suigetsu could do but call Mikoto and Kushina, desperate and terrified. That had been at seven-thirty in the morning, the time he woke up for school.

It was close to three in the afternoon and they've been there all day with no rope to hold on to and no air to breathe.

This one is drenched in death and Suigetsu wants none of it.

They hear footsteps.

Suigetsu's lanky frame begins to shake—it's happened all day, every time someone passed by, not sparing them a glance and if so, throwing them a frosty fake smile.

But these footsteps are heavy with the weight of something Suigetsu didn't want anything to do with; his stomach churns and he's not hungry, he hasn't eaten all day and he's not hungry and… The footsteps pause and Suigetsu looks up. The doctor is at the entrance of the waiting room, harsh lines crinkling his forehead and a forlorn look on his face, smoothed out by the years of expertise.

Mikoto and Kushina stand up.

"I'm sorry," says the doctor.

There is a heart monitor going off somewhere; white noise clogs Suigetsu's ears.

"I'm sorry."

He lowers his head, and he begins to sink—dropping down, down, down to the ground, hiding his face in his hands and forgetting how to breathe.

.

.

.

"I can't go in there."

His voice is but a croak—cracking at all the right places and shaking everywhere else. He's pacing the front of the hospital, running his hands through his messy hair; puffing air into his cheeks and exhaling it all out in one go.

He's older—twenty-four and still unkept. He's taller and filled with a bit more life; darkness chewing him up and spitting him out until he was unrecognizable, but he built himself up again and Suigetsu has lived to the best he's can but he refuses to return to the hospital that took what was his and never gave it back.

"I can't," he shakes his head, pacing. "I can't—I just… Can't."

Evening is approaching, the sun is setting and the sky is all oranges and pinks and even purples. Everything happens fast and by the time Suigetsu catches up, he's found himself in front of the hospital that still haunts him in his sleep—letting go of his girlfriend's hand and watching as her friends lead her to wherever expecting women go.

But Suigetsu can't find it within him to step a foot inside.

He left the place, ten years ago, a mess—broken to his very core and empty.

He's rebuilt himself.

He's put himself back together and he refuses to give the hospital that—refuses to give himself up again. He's worked too hard for everything he is, everything he has.

But he can't let Karin go through…

He sighs, running a hand through his hair and growling under his breath.

"Suigetsu."

He pauses and turns around, watching as Kushina gets off the car, waving Naruto to go inside. His foster mother—because she is, god, if she and Mikoto aren't—stares at him with stern dark eyes, bright red hair growing dull with age. Suigetsu walks to her, waving at his stupid sort-of brother and enveloping the woman in his arms.

"What are you doing here," she says and her voice rumbles against his chest. "Karin is in labor!"

"I can't."

Kushina pulls away and stares at him.

"I can't go in there."

"Don't be silly, Sui," Kushina murmurs, fixing his hair like mothers do. "Come along."

She lifts her small hand up and Suigetsu stares at it with something like fear. It takes him minutes, but Kushina doesn't push him, and when he finally engulfs her hand in his, she quietly leads the way, asking the receptionist for the right floor and demanding they be allowed in because he is the father and she the grandmother.

Suigetsu is numb, breathing almost erratic, eyes frantic as he looks around.

He finds it hard to keep his screams of anger in and he feels stupid for returning to being a troubled teenager, lost and confused and alone. But he feels it with every step until he blinks his violet eyes and finds himself standing in a room, holding Karin's hand as she squeezes and pushes and screams—screams and shrieking and Suigetsu is whirling.

In a vortex leaving him dazed and confused, too numb to feel pain in his hand and too confused to depict where the screams are coming from and why they are so loud and insistent.

The hospital is booming—white walls and specked tiled floors, teal curtains sealing their little space and nurses in matching uniforms cleaning up their stations and strolling them away. Karin lies on a bed, tired and drenched in sweat, glasses fogged up.

She holds a bundle and Suigetsu stares at it, listens to the shrieks and it makes sense.

Karin hands him the infant and Suigetsu stares at her, this child of his.

She quiets down, lowers her flailing little arms and only allows him to peak at her violet eyes for a second before she closes them and is sound asleep. Suigetsu swallows and looks up at Karin for a second, grinning, relaxing, breathing.

There is no noise.


End file.
